


Tiny Safehouse On The Hill

by Aesops_Tables



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Don't worry, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Food, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Puzzles, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), its mostly fluff and comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:48:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28084206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aesops_Tables/pseuds/Aesops_Tables
Summary: Life can be boring when you're in hiding. Keeping a low profile requires that you spend a lot of time in the house. Jon and Martin were no exception to this. However, if you don't spice it up a few times a month, you might as well let yourself die from boredom. That's why tonight, in the tiny safehouse on the hill, is date night.Or, at least, it was, until things got a little derailed.
Relationships: Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood
Comments: 7
Kudos: 96





	Tiny Safehouse On The Hill

Life can be boring when you're in hiding. Keeping a low profile requires that you spend a lot of time in the house. Jon and Martin were no exception to this. However, if you don't spice it up a few times a month, you might as well let yourself die from boredom. That's why tonight, in the tiny safehouse on the hill, is date night.

Or, at least, it _was_ , until things got a little derailed.

"Okay, so you're banned from all sharp objects," Martin declared as he returned to the living room with a first aid kit. Jon was sitting on the floor, cradling his hand and trying to keep blood from getting on his sweater.

He hurriedly tried to explain himself, saying, "I didn't mean to, I just stopped paying attention and then--"

"It was a joke, Jon. Don't worry." He crouched in front of Jon and held his thin, fragile looking hand so he could clean the small cut and put a band-aid on it.

Jon had been chopping vegetables for supper. They wanted something nicer for once and had gone down to the market specifically for this supper--potato soup with a side of chicken and vegetables, and now here Jon was, ruining the evening with his clumsiness. 

He had zoned out for just a minute, thinking to himself about how nice the day had been compared to some...less favorable moments in his life. He was actually mostly thinking about how nice the dinner was going to be and how he wanted to surprise Martin with a new puzzle he secretly bought at the market, but now… Well, maybe that wasn't going to happen after all. 

"Alrighty, all done. See, nothing a small band-aid can't fix. Jon? Are you okay?"

He snapped his head up to look at Martin, and realized he had been frowning. "Oh, yes. Sorry, I just got a little lost in thought."

"Penny for those thoughts?" He sat down completely, holding Jon's bandaged hand gently.

"It's just-- am I a bother?" He blurted out. "I know I'm not easy to deal with, and I apparently have no idea how to take care of myself, and I don't know I just feel like with everything that's been going on these last few weeks--more like months or...years, really--uhm, I just-- I feel like it's not fair for you to stay here and keep track of if I've eaten a meal all day or if I've gotten enough sleep this week or if I'm hurt and haven't noticed… And then in return I'm so bad about showing any affection or even appreciation, I just don't think it's fair for you."

Martin didn't seem to have any response readily available to Jon's rambling, and simply sat there, staring at him for a 10 second period that felt more like 10 hours. Eventually though, he just muttered an, "Oh, Jon…" and embraced him. "You'll never be a bother to me. The only reward I need for taking care of you is just knowing that you're safe. Besides, _you_ _saved me,_ Jon. I think a little TLC is deserved after that." 

Jon made a small "mm" sound into Martin's chest as his only response. He wasn't entirely reassured, but steps were being made. They sat there for a few moments, Martin stroking Jon's hair as Jon held onto Martin like his life depended on it. Like if he let go, Martin might just change his mind and walk out. He wouldn't be able to handle that. Losing his final friend... his _boyfriend_ … he would simply fall apart at his already weakened seams.

Eventually, Martin broke the hug to meet Jon's eyes and ask, "Why don't we finish making supper? I think that and a warm bath will do us some good." 

The smaller man nodded, and so they got up and did just that. Jon finished chopping the vegetables (carefully, this time), and Martin prepared the chicken and soup. They sat at the uncomfortably wobbly wooden dinner table and ate a supper that seemed to melt away all the pain, suffering, and remorse. It was warm and delightful and just what both men needed. They, at some point, mentioned this to each other, leading to an hour and a half full of reflection on the happier days of their lives. Days at the beach as a child, playing in the hot sand and getting knocked over by chilling waves; Helping your grandmother make world-class snickerdoodles that you ate too many of and got sick; Saving a cat from the rain and naming it Ribbo until you found the proper owner; Jumping in piles of crisp leaves until you're called in for a warm supper and some hot chocolate… The list went on and on, and by the end both men were laughing and smiling and more sentimental than they had been in years.

Eventually they cleaned up the kitchen and ran the bath. They sat together, in the warmth of the water, Martin spooning Jon and holding him with a sort of domestic tenderness so sweet it could've been sickening. Their conversation consisted mostly of whispering sweet nothings to one another as Martin ran his hands over the scars on Jon's dark skin and Jon toyed with Martin's soft curls.

"Oh, I've never noticed this one before," Martin said, brushing his finger over a scar on Jon's shoulder. "Where'd it come from?"

"Oh that one's...ah, d'you remember the impromptu surgery on Melanie? She woke up and stabbed me with a scalpel." Martin winced.

"Um, ow."

"Heh, tell me about it. Sometimes I think I feel it starting to ache again, but it's probably just stress making my nervous system act up."

Martin leaned down and kissed his shoulder, right on the scar. "There, all better." He joked. "And, y'know, that hand's looking a little rough… and your neck… and your cheek… and your other cheek." One by one he kissed each and every one of Jon's scars. He looked over at Jon after ensuring each scar was kissed, and Jon couldn't hold back the grin of love and admiration and affection that seemed to take over his entire face.

"God you're cheesy," was all he whispered, practically breathless.

"Call me cheesy all you want, I think it's worth it if it means I get to see you smile."

"I-- um…" He pushed his face into Martin's shoulder and groaned. "How do you do the romantic stuff? How much time do you spend thinking this stuff up? Or is my brain just slow with this stuff…"

Martin chuckles. "It just kind of comes to me, I think. But I doubt everyone is like that. It just might not be your love language, y'know?"

"Love language? Okay, now you're just making stuff up."

"I am not! What, you don't know love languages? There's like 5 of them. Words of affirmation, acts of service, erm... receiving gifts, quality time, and, uh, physical touch!"

"...Interesting."

Martin laughed. Not in a mean way, like it was ridiculous that Jon didn't know the five love languages, or something like _how could he be so uneducated in such a prominent topic._ No, nothing like a laugh of superiority. His laugh was soft. Joyful, like he was happy to be able to share this knowledge with Jon instead of the usual opposite.

"Okay, so basically, words of affirmation is like compliments and kind words and stuff. Very verbal, y'know? Acts of service is doing things for the ones you love. Making tea, cleaning up for them, et cetera et cetera. Those are my two love languages. Then there's relieving gifts, and, as the name might suggest, these people like treating others or being treated with things like dates or flowers or something. Quality time is just spending time together in the most pure way, with no other distractions and stuff. And then physical touch is, well, physical touch. Kisses, cuddles, hugs, that kind of stuff."

Jon seemed to take a moment to process all of that, and then let out a simple, "Hm."

"Hm?" Martin responded.

He leaned over and kissed Martin's cheek. "What does it mean, then, if I love you in all 5 languages?" 

Martin smiled. "It means I'm a lucky, lucky man."

They eventually got out of the bath, despite the obvious reluctance, once it began to grow cold, and put on some pajamas. Even in the bedroom, as they lay in bed together calmly, they could hear the fireplace crackling. It served as the most beautiful melody to the beat of their love-struck hearts and soft-spoken words of endearment, together forming the purest symphony of love one might ever be blessed to experience.

"I got you a puzzle, you know. Meant to give it to you as a surprise tonight, but everything kind of went off schedule. It was a pretty scene. A sunny field of flowers with a family of cows in the background. Good cows…" Jon trailed off with a yawn. He was talking to air at that point; Martin was already asleep with the softest expression on his face. It was no matter, though, because that just meant he could surprise him with the puzzle tomorrow.

Martin liked puzzles... Jon liked Martin. Jon _really_ liked Martin... Wait a minute, would puzzles fit into the gift giving love language or the quality time love language? Well now he had to figure this out so he can brag about it during breakfast tomorrow…

In the end, Jon didn't have time to debate with himself, as he was too busy drifting off in Martin's arms. In the background, the fire crackled on, strong in its melodic movement. With heart beats slowed and sleepy whispers halted, it played on as a solo, fueled by the adoration and fondness that dwelled in the tiny safehouse on the hill.


End file.
